Married under the Italian Sun
by Total Primark
Summary: The world knows her as a famous for being famous. But Hermione Granger can't wait to leave her celebrity lifestyle and ugly divorce behind her, and start a new life in the Villa Malfio on the Amalfi Coast... Nobody could care about the villa more than Draco Malfoy- it broke his heart to see it sold. But getting to know Hermione again might just change his life...
1. Show Time

**Chapter 1! This is going to be a long series so please stay and review so I'll know if it's too long or not! I'm going to update it every week and if i have to miss a week I'll tell you so your not hanging. Please be honestly with me since this is my first fan-fiction. **

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'Ladies and Gentleman, here we are again with your favourite TV programme, _Star On My Team, _when the famous- and sometimes the infamous- ha-ha!- team up with _you_ to win fabulous prizes...'

Sitting backstage, Hermione prayed for burbling intro-duction to be over soon. In fact, she thought, please let the whole mindless business be over. Just as her marriage was over, and only awaited a decent burial.

The presenter was getting into his stride.

'On my right, Mr and Mrs Barker, and their famous team member-' He named a reporter from the daily prophet. Watching the backstage screen, Hermione saw him enter, flashing his teeth and grandstanding to the audience.

Ginny, her personal assistance and best friend, surveyed her with critical approval.

'You look perfect,' she said.

Of course she did. Hermione always looked perfect. That was her function. Long wavy hair, large, hazel-brown eyes, slender figure encased in a tight gold dress, cut teasingly low. Masses of glittering, tasteless jewellery. _Bling Bling!_

'And now, the lady I know you're impatient to see-'

_Not as impatient as I am to finish this, _she thought wryly, while trying to remain good-tempered. _Time to get out there. Big smile!_

'The one we've all been waiting for...'

_Especially since my husband plastered my face all over the front pages, trying to divorce me on the cheap. Never mind. Smile!_

A look in the mirror, a final adjustment of her dress to ensure that her assets were displayed to advantage, mouth widened just so far, no further. And now for the last walk to where the lights beckoned and the cameras preyed on her. It felt like a walk to the guillotine.

'Here she is. The beautiful, the intelligent-Hermione!'

she'd done this a hundred times before, and it should have been easy, but as she emerged and the applause washed over her, something terrible happened. The lights seemed to dim, and suddenly her mind was filled with darkness and panic.

_Please, not now! I thought those attacks were over!_

Mercifully, the dreadful moment passed swiftly_._ She could cope again, just.

She advanced on the suicidally high heels, hands out-stretched, voice tuned to a note of artificial ecstasy to greet the presenter.

Her fellow contestants were Mr and Mrs Strobes. She'd met them in the hospitality room before the show and it had been an endurance test.

'We're so sorry about your divorce,' Mrs Strobes had said. 'We think it's just terrible the way he threw out.'

'Parting was a mutual decision,' Hermione had hastened to say.

But what was the point, with Ron Weasley his new companion at every party and nightclub?

The audience was agog to see her, so she smiled and waved, turning this way and that so that shouldn't be disappointed. she could almost hear the comments.

'A right sexy little piece-a bit of all right'

That was what her husband had wanted from her. For him she'd been a 'right sexy little piece' for eight years, and suddenly eight years felt like a very long time.

The show started. The questions were ridiculously easy, but even so she gave a performance of racking her brains, giggling are her own 'ignorance'. They wanted 'dumb blonde' so that was what she would give them.

The reporter on the other side seemed to be genuinely dumb, and Hermione's team was soon in the lead. The clincher came when the host burbled, 'And now, Hermione, here's a real tough one of you. Who painted the Sistine Chapel? Was it a) Maisie the Mouse b) Michelangelo, or c) Mark Antony?'

She did her bit, putting her dainty fingertips to her mouth and giving an 'Hermione' giggle.

'Ooh, dear! I don't know! I never studied music.' Roars of laughter from the audience. 'Could you repeat the question, please?'

He did so and she gave a little squeal.

'You always give me the hard ones. I'll have to guess. Michelangelo.'

Michelangelo is right, and you have won.'

Cheers, applause, her team mates bouncing with joy. It would be finished soon. _Cling to that thought._

At last it was over and she could escape. Nina was waiting for her with the car, so that she could make a speedy escape from all the prying eyes.

Nina had been with her for eight years, secretary, maid, gofer and good, solid friend. She was a little younger than Hermione, plain, funny and a rock to cling to.


	2. talking with Ginny

**I was in the mood for writing so I decided I'd write another chapter. so Ta dah!**

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When they were on their way, Hermione let out a long sigh of relief.

'At least that's over,' Nina said. 'With luck you'll never have to do another one.'

'Not once I'm living in Italy,' Hermione agreed. 'Amalfi, here I come.'

'I really wish I could come with you.'

'So do I,' Hermione said, meaning it. 'I'll miss you, but i shan't need a secretary and besides you and Harry have so much ahead of you here. From here on I'm going to live a very quite life.'

'My brother (Ron) called me today and asked me to go back to work for him. He said ''darling Lavender'' needs me. Lavender! I ask you . Her name's Lauren.'

'And mine's Hermione, but I let him rename my Angel for the sake of his image.'

'I told him I'd found another job. As though I'd work for him again- a great stupid vulgarian who thinks he's somebody because he's rich, I'm ashamed to call him family.'

'Mind how you talk about my ex-husband,' Hermione said mildly.

'You object?'

'Certainly. ''Great, stupid vulgarian'' doesn't begin to do him justice.'

'How about, ''coarse, spiteful bullying thug''?'

'That's much better,' Hermione said with a wry little laugh.

'You're well shot of him. And, even if he did cheat you out of a proper settlement, you got an Italian place out of it.'

'The Villa Malfio isn't a palace. If it has been, ''Lavender'' would have wanted it. He bought it for her, but without letting her see it first. It was to be a wonderful surprise. But when she realised it wasn't palatial, just a large country house, she didn't think it was wonderful at all.''

'Rumour says it cost him a million.'

'A palace would have cost at least five million. I heard he showed her a lot of pictures he'd taken, and she ripped them up.'

'I suppose Seamus told you that,' said Ginny, naming Ron's PA, who was secretly on Hermione's side, as was everyone who'd worked for her.

'That's right. Apparently her language would have made a stevedore blush.'

'And Ron let her talk to him like that?'

'She's twenty, and secy. It boosts his ego to flaunt her-'

'Next to his fat, forty-nine-year-old self?'

Hermione laughed. 'Next to his fifty-two-year-old self, that's a secret. Even I only found out by accident, But the point is that as long as Lavender does him proud, she can talk to him how she likes. Anyway,he finally tossed the placed to me and said, '' you can have that as your divorce pay-off. Take it or leave it.''

'And that's all?'

'I get a lump sum as well, but I'll have to be careful with it. It'll cover my expenses until the lemon harvest comes in. Part of the estate is an orchard, and when I sell the crop I'll have enough to get by.'

Even so, you could have fought Ron for a fair share. With his millions he's got off cheap.'

'I know, but he could have tied me up for years, fighting him and his army of lawyers. I simply felt very tired, so I took it. After all, I've always loved Italy.'

Once, she'd planned to study magical history at college, then go on to Italy to study more. She'd even learned Italian. But that dream had come to nothing, when her beloved father had fallen ill and needed her.


	3. Ron and Dad

**_I know I said once a week but I'm in the mood to write so lucky you. I hope your enjoying this series and that you will tell me if you are or if you're not. So Read and Review._**

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**__**Now, ironically, she was going to Italy after all but not to Rome or Florence, the centres of art. Her new home was a villa on the Amalfi coast where the cliffs plunged dizzyingly down to the sea.

Anything was worth it, she told herself, if she could still take care of the old man who had offered her a home even if he had forgotten that she was his daughter. Even though she was a complete stranger, he loved her. When his health had failed all she cared about was looking after him. For a while she had had a boyfriend, Dean, who had dazzled her with his handsome looks, but she had broken up with him when he made it clear there was no place for her dad in their lives.

Hoping to borrow some money, Hermione got in touch with her good friend from school, Ron Weasley. Ron wanted a trophy wife and he had the money to make her dad comfortable for the rest of his days. So when Ron proposes, she accepted.

Ron wanted a young sexy trophy wife, and he made her change her name. To him, 'Hermione' was dull and provincial, but 'Angel' the name he called in school since she was a bit of a goody-two shoes was the sexy, young 'bit' that he wanted.

He took her to every ball, every fashionable restaurant opening and she was always dressed to the nines and dripping with jewels. The idea was to show the world that coarse, vulgar keeper Ron Weasley had a wife that other men envied him for.

She did what pleased him because she was grateful that her dad now had a comfortable life with her, cared by two nurses. Often he didn't know who she was, but he seemed happy, and that was all she asked.

She became a minor celebrity, famous for being famous, appearing at store opening, fluttering her eyelashes, giggling and doing all she could to make Ron proud.

But when she became pregnant Ron showed his true colours. He already had two grown sons from a previous marriage, and he wasn't keen on Hermione losing her figure. He even suggested that there was 'no need to have it'. That provoked a fierce row in which she stood up to him so determinedly that that he never mentioned it again.

But it was all nothing. Two days later, she miscarried. In the weeks of depression that followed, she became, as he put it, poor company. He found a younger woman, a girl of twenty. He reckoned Hermione was past her best, at twenty-eight.

She had known that beneath the surface bonhomie Ron could be a very unpleasant man. Just how unpleasant she discovered during the divorce, when he drove her and her father out of the house and gave her as little as he could get away with.

She cared nothing for the money. Of it weren't for her father, she would have thought herself well rid of Ron.

After the hideously gaudy mansion in the heart of London's West End where she'd once lived- 'Nothing too good for my Angel'- she now rented a small house on the edge of town, just big enough for herself, her dad and the two nurses. She'd taken it on a short-term lease, and in a few weeks she must have the Villa Malfio ready for them all.

On the night before she left for Italy, she dropped in to her dad's room.

'I'll be leaving very early tomorrow,' she told him.

'Why are you going away?' he asked, puzzled.

'Darling, I told you. I'm going to Italy, to see this house where we're going to live. It's my divorce settlement from Ron.'

'Ron who?'

'You remember Ron- my ex-husband.'

He frowned. 'What became of Gavin?'

'We quarrelled. Never mind all that now. We're going to have a new home in Italy. Look, here are the pictures of it that I brought you. You'll come and join me as soon as possible.'

He fixed her with the smile she loved, full of warmth and affection.

'Why are you going away?' he asked.


	4. Draco

**_Finally we get to meet Draco and his friend Vincent Crabb. So please Read and Review._**

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Draco Malfoy was waiting at the window, watching the street for the moment when his friend appeared. As soon as he saw Vincent he was at the door, almost pulling him inside.

'Have you got it?' He asked eagerly.

'Draco, my friend, I'm still not sure it is wise. You're obsessed, and that isn't good.'

'Obsessed! Of course I am. I've been cheated by two people: the first was one I called friend until she stole from me and vanished, forcing me to sell my home to pay her debts. _Her _debts, Vincent, which she had persuaded me to sign for. The other was Ron Weasley, who saw my desperation and used it to beat me down on the price. I sold for much less than the place is worth because I needed money quickly. If I could have got a fair price I'd have had enough to give me some hope for the future. I wouldn't be penniless and living _here_.' He cast a scornful look around the shabby rented room that was his home now.

Vincent regarded him with pity, which he was careful to conceal. They were both thirty-two and had been friends since their first day at school. Nobody knew the fierce, embittered Draco better than his gentle friend. Nobody understood him as deeply, or feared for him more.

He was silent, watching Draco pace the narrow confines of the room, his tall, rangy body looking so out of place in it, after the spaciousness of the Villa Malfio that it was like seeing a wild animal trapped in a tiny cage. Sooner or later the animal would go mad.

Draco wasn't a handsome man. His face was too harsh for that, his cheeks too gaunt, his eyes too fierce. His nose was irregular, so that people meeting him for the first time wondered if it had been broken. His wide, firm mouth suggested an unyielding nature, one that could love or hate with equal ferocity, and never forgive an injury from foe or lover alike.

Even Vincent, his closest friend, was slightly afraid of him, and pitied anyone who got on Draco's wrong side.

'Won't you forget that man for a moment?' he begged now.

'How can I forget him?' Draco asked savagely. 'He forced the price down until he practically stole the estate from me! And do you know why? To impress a woman. To make her a gift of my home at the least possible expense to himself.'

'You don't know that,' Vincent pleaded.

'But I do. As I showed him round I heard him say, "My pretty lady will just love this. It's just what she said she wanted." All for a woman. So now I want to see that woman. Yu said your friend in England could send you something that would show her to me. Do you have it or not?'

'Yes,' Vincent said, reluctantly unwrapping the small parcel he carried. 'This is a video of a television show called _Star on My Team_. It was shown last week, and they taped it for me. But I still wish you'd drop this. Hate the man if you must, but why blame _her?_'

'Do you think they can be separated? Do you think I don't know the kind of woman who puts a price on the bedroom door, and then ups the price again and again? We all know them. Give me the tape.'

Taking it, he pressed it into an ancient video recorder that stood in the corner of the room, poured two glasses of wine, and the two of them sat down to watch.

_'Here she is. The beautiful, the intelligent-Hermione!'_

Draco never took his eyes off the ravishing blonde with her long hair, luscious make up and a sexy pout, as she sashayed out to meet the audience.

Flaunting herself, he thought cruelly, taking in the golden figure-hugging dresses and flashy jewels. A woman used to being waited on, who demanded the best, and gets it. She couldn't be the Hermione he once knew.

'_Putana,' _he muttered. Prostitute.

'That's going too far,' Vincent protested.

'You think a wedding ring hides what she is?'

'She may not be wearing it any more. My friends say there is talk of divorce.'

'So she demanded my home as her parting present? Is that supposed to make me feel better?'

At the moment, Hermione gave her famous inane giggle. It went up the scale, growing more lush and significant with every teasing note. She put her fingertips daintily over her lips, looking from side to side as if to say, _Silly me._

A prefect performance, Draco thought. Apparently fatuous, but actually calculated to tempt a man through his weakness. Even he had felt a faint tingle up his spine, and it served to increase his rage.

Vincent stared at Hermione's polished beauty.

'She may be all you say,' he mused, 'but you can see why-'

'Oh, yes,' Draco said contemptuously. 'You can see _why_!'

There was a tinkling sound as his wine glass broke in his hand, crushed by the cruel pressure of his fingers. He seemed unaware of it. His eyes were fixed on the screen, and the beautiful, provocative woman laughing as though she didn't have a care in the world.


	5. Amalfi

The journey began with a flight to Naples. It would have been easy to call the villa and ask for someone to collect her from the airport, but getting there under her own steam seemed a good way to start her new, low-profile life. Besides, Hermione liked the idea of arriving unexpectedly and seeing the house as it was naturally.

It was an impulse she soon regretted. Being independent was fine if you had only a few bags. But if you were carrying all your worldly goods it was a pain in the neck t have to load them into a taxi at Naples airport, unload them again at the railway station, then onto the train to Sorrento, followed by a bus to Amalfi. By the time she was in the last taxi, to the villa, she was frazzled.

But she forgot the feeling as she gained her first glimpse of the dramatic Amalfi coast. She'd heard of it, and studied pictures, but nothing could have prepared her for the dazzling reality of the cliffs swooping down, down, down into the sea.

'They're so high,' she said in wonder. 'And those little villages clinging to the sides- how come they don't slide down into the water?'

'They are protected by a great hero,' the driver announced proudly. 'The legend says that Hercules loved a beautiful nymph, called Amalfi. When she died, he buried her here, and placed huge cliffs all around to safeguard her peace. But then the fishermen protested that they would starve because now they couldn't get to the sea, so he built them villages on his cliffs, and vowed that he would always keep them safe. And he always has'.

Looking down, Hermione found the pretty tale easy to believe. What else could explain how the little towns clung on to the steep sides, rising almost vertically, white walls blazing in the sun?

'Is the estate up there?' She asked.

'Right on top, although the lemon orchard stretches down the cliff face, in tiers, to catch as much sun as possible.'

'Are the lemons good?' She asked, trying to sound casual.

'The best. The makers of limoncello always complete to buy these lemons".

''Whatever is limoncello?'

'It is a liquor, made with lemons and vodka, straight out of heaven.'


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